The Draught of Living Death
by Cliodna
Summary: The War is over. Voldemort is defeated. Everything is at peace, except Hermione.
1. The Boy Who Caused Her Insomnia

Chapter 1 

Dislaimer: I own nothing, am affiliated with nothing, and get no money for doing this.

And thank you Rini, for being insanely intelligent and willing to beta my insane, comma-obsessive fics. You are simply brilliant!

_The rain splattered on her face, wiping away the blood. She stood there, in front of him, protecting him. He was soo weak…he tried to push her away, but she refused. "No," he said, "I won't let you do this." _

_But she wasn't as badly hurt as he was, and for the life of him he couldn't push her away. _

"_Stand aside, silly girl…" the cold, malicious voice said. "Although it would bring him great pain to see you die before him, you could prove to be…quite valuable in the future, after I win this war…" he said this last part with what one would call a licentious grin. _

"_I won't let you do this," Harry whispered in her ear. _

"_I don't care what you say! Take me, please! Not Harry! Please, take me…kill me instead…" _

"_Please, you know this has nothing to do with you," Harry pleaded. " I won't let you do this; you'll die for nothing," and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed her away. _

"_Finally," the cold voice said, and cast his spell…_

Hermione woke up screaming. As if sitting outside her room, Harry suddenly appeared at her bedside, sat down next to her, and began to comfort her.

"Harry, it was so awful," she began with a sob. "I saw it, I saw it all over again, just like every night. I felt it again, the terror…oh my god Harry I thought you were going to die! I thought you would die and I couldn't stop it…"

"Shh…" Harry soothed her, while rocking her gently. "Shh…its all right. Its over, and I survived. I defeated him, shh…"

"No, Harry! You could've died! You could've died and then what would have become of me?" Hermione continued cry into Harry's chest. Some deep part of her knew this was silly, knew that this was all past, but she refused to let go.

It had been two months since the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts, two months since the end of the war. Of course everyone was relieved; the war had ended, Harry Potter had once again saved the day, and most everyone moved on with the rest of their lives.

But not her. She wouldn't let go, _couldn't_ let go. For the past seven years of her life, her focus had been Harry's safety. Her life had revolved around his welfare, and the main threat to this was Voldemort. Now with Voldemort gone, everyone assumed that from now on Harry would be safe; he was the most powerful wizard alive of course.

But that still didn't comfort Hermione. No one else, save Ron, knew how close of a call it had been. No one knew that however powerful Harry may be, he was still human, and he could've died that night.

She hated thinking about the possibility, hated it when it replayed over and over and over in her head. It plagued her dreams, turning them into nightmares; the fear was constantly with her while she was awake. She could be making a pot of coffee, and then his voice, telling her to stand aside, would make the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, and she would drop the pot and it would shatter…

At work, she would feel the rain on her face, and lose all concentration…even to this day she had yet to go out in the rain; she would stay in, and make Harry stay with her.

Despite the fact that she had seen Harry defeat Voldemort right before her eyes, even though she _knew_ the war was over, the protective instincts she'd been honing and nurturing for the past seven years had yet to leave her. She remained in constant worry…every day that passed, she would ask herself: Is Voldemort _really_ gone? Is there not some way that he could be brought back, with even greater power, and with a greater desire to seek vengeance against Harry?

"He cannot come back, Hermione," Harry said reassuringly. Being an accomplished legilimens he could sense, if not outright read, her thoughts.

"Why are you so sure? He's come back so many times, he…"

"Hermione, you know that when he took my blood, he became mortal. In sixth year, we stopped him from achieving immortality, and then two months ago I killed him…"

Hermione nodded; they've had this same conversation almost every night for the past two months. At first, Ron was always there as well, but ever since his Quidditch schedule with the Cannons went from slightly taxing to downright grueling, nothing, not even Hermione's screaming, could wake him up at night.

Upon hearing a slight snore emanate from Harry, who had suddenly ceased his comforting ministrations, Hermione felt a pang of guilt; she'd been keeping him up every night.

"Harry…" she cooed quietly.

Harry awoke with a start. "What is it? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Hermione assured. "If you want…you can go back to your room and sleep now. I'm quite all right now."

Harry grabbed a strand of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear. "Are you sure you'll be able to sleep now?" He asked, deep concern apparent in his tone.

"Yes of course. I'll be fine. Simply smashing," Hermione said, trying her best to smile.

Harry gave her a quick peck on the forehead. "If you say so," he said. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight Harry," Hermione said, feigning a sleepy yawn.

When Harry closed the door behind him, Hermione just laid there in the dark, sleep being the furthest thing from her mind…

The next morning Hermione, who sometime during the night had drifted off into a fitful sleep, awoke to the smell of warm coffee.

Grumpily, she jumped out of bed, put on her fuzzy pink slippers, and skipped down the stairs into the kitchen.

After Sirius died, he left Grimmauld place to Harry in his will. After the war ended, and the Order was dismantled, (at least, until such a time when it would again be needed) Harry decided he wanted to move in.

Many thought him mad wanting to move into a house that Sirius hated and that represented so much evil. But, for that same reason, Harry decided to move in. As a last service to Sirius, he wanted to renovate the place, and make it the house he knew Sirius would have wanted.

Naturally, the house did need quite a bit of work. Though Mrs. Weasley did manage to clean the place up quite a bit, the house still seemed like a tomb. Of course, Harry could never engage in such a transformation alone, so he invited Hermione and Ron to move in with him. Of course, Ron was delighted to finally leave his overpopulated home, and Hermione was pleased to have a place in close proximity to her job.

Another perk was of course being able to watch over Harry whenever he was at home.

When she entered the kitchen, Hermione was not at all surprised to find Ron there, sitting at the table with a big mug of steaming coffee in front of him, reading the Daily Prophet.

He looked well rested and happy; he was even whistling!

Hermione wanted to throttle him.

"Well then, you seem to have slept well," Hermione said crossly.

Ron seemed like he hadn't heard, or decided to ignore, her tone. "Why good morning Hermione."

Hermione simply huffed, and walked straight across to the coffee. As she was pouring herself a cup, Harry walked in, looking like a child whose mother just made him wake up early for school.

Hermione felt her stomach turn over in guilt. "Coffee, Harry?" she asked, handing over the mug she had just poured herself.

"Don't mind if I ahhh…" Harry stopped mid-sentence, trying to stifle a yawn.

Ron inspected both of them suspiciously. "Both of you seem awfully tired this morning."

Hermione glared at him, while Harry insipidly drank from his coffee.

"Perhaps, if you had removed your head from out your arse, you would have realized that I had another nightmare last night…" Hermione said grouchily.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh…you had a nightmare, did you? I'm sorry I didn't set my alarm clock to this little schedule you've got going on. Remind me tonight why don't you? Seeing as how the world revolves around you, and that my Quidditch career pales in comparison to your needs…"

"Oh shut it Ron! Don't you understand how hard this is for me? I…"

"Children, please! Lets get along," Harry said, trying to calm the escalating argument. "Ron, be patient with Hermione. She's tired; she hasn't slept in two months. Hermione, please understand Ron. He has to work hard at Quidditch everyday…"

"Oh yes, as if our jobs aren't any more strenuous?" Hermione spat. "We're Aurors, Harry! And you, you're there for me every night, while this good for nothing _git_…"

"Oh shove it, Hermione!" Ron began, "If you would just…"

"_Silencio_!" Harry exclaimed, his hand in the air between them. "Now, I promise to give you both your voices back if you promise to be civil."

Ron and Hermione nodded like first years being scolded by McGonagall.

"_Finite Incantatem_."

Both their voices returned, but it was as if Harry had done nothing, for Ron continued in the same patronizing voice he had been using before. "If you would just get some therapy, Hermione, you would rid yourself of your nightmares, and let poor Harry have some peace in his life."

Hermione looked like she was about to retort with some reason why therapy was completely absurd, as she most usually did when Ron brought the subject up, but she then heard Harry stifle another yawn. _What am I doing?_ She thought to herself. _I'm destroying Harry… _

"You're perfectly right, Ron," Hermione said grudgingly.

Ron's mouth fell open in astonishment; even Harry seemed quite astounded at this new development.

"I'll go find a suitable therapist today."


	2. Couch Sessions

Hermione stood outside the office of Dr. Parvati Patil.

At first, Hermione toyed with the idea of going to a Muggle therapist. She already had her cover story planned out; she would tell the therapist that she had seen her best friend almost get killed by a Columbian Druglord, but at the pivotal moment, her friend managed to get the upper hand and kill the Druglord himself.

But then, how would she explain the irrational fear that this Druglord, who is presumably mortal, would all of a sudden come back to life and go after said friend?

No, she decided that the best course of action would be to visit a magical therapist. However, she knew that whomever she came across would immediately recognize her.

When looking up prominent therapists, Hermione had come across Parvati's name. Of course, Hermione was amazed that someone so short out of Hogwarts could already be practicing licensed therapy, but then she remembered the death toll. Apparently, the war had the one positive effect of leaving the job market much more open to the newly graduated students.

However insensitive that may sound.

Hermione herself, and even Harry had benefited from this. Two months short of Hogwarts, and they were already senior level Aurors. Of course, the Ministry would have been foolish not to accept them with the repertoire they had already built up, but still, would this have happened if there hadn't been a war?

Naturally, Hermione debated whether she wanted to be treated by Parvati, not because of her age or experience, (she'd probably had a lot of people needing therapy so soon after the war) but because she _knew_ Hermione. They'd been in the same house, and dorm together for the past seven years, and she was afraid she'd be biased in her treatment.

Then there was that little thing with Harry. Parvati and Harry had dated during their sixth year, albeit briefly. However, Parvati remained bitter awhile after the breakup, and blamed it all on Hermione. Of course Hermione assured Parvati that she was talking pure rubbish, and seeing that Harry and Hermione didn't make a move towards each other, Parvati forgave Hermione and all was well.

Then of course, there was that _other_ thing. But no, of course no, that wasn't at all relevant…

In the end, it was precisely for this history that Hermione chose Parvati. She wouldn't be like any other witch or wizard, asking curious questions, because Parvati was there all along.

And if anyone understood the complex nature of Harry and Hermione's friendship, it was Parvati, for she witnessed its growth first hand.

Resolving to get it over worth, Hermione charged into the room. Parvati's office, small, though comfortable, was decorated quite in the same manner as a Muggle therapist's office would be: dark leather chairs, mahogany furniture, and generic plants.

Parvati had her back to the door, and without even turning around, she firmly announced, "If you have no appointment, please turn around and make one, and I will aid you at the proper time."

"I'm sorry to barge in like this, Parvati," Hermione said quietly.

Parvati turned around, a wide smile on her face. "Hermione Granger!" she exclaimed happily. Then, her joyful smile at seeing an old friend was quickly replaced with surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Hermione slumped onto the nearest chair, her eyes tearing up. "I can't sleep Parvati. I see it, I see it all the time…"

Alarm etched all over her face, Parvati knelt on the floor next to Hermione, her big beautiful black eyes also welling up with tears.

The War was a particular dark subject with her, for she and Padma had also lost their parents in it. Though many clients came to her, traumatized by the loss of a loved one, no other patient's agony had so moved her like Hermione's, which was quite natural as Hermione was the only patient to have had first hand experience fighting You-Know-Who himself.

"Tell me," Parvati pleaded. Hermione nodded, and began to describe it all.

"_Take Ron to safety!" Harry bellowed at Hermione, who was presently making her way toward him. _

_They were in front of the Riddle House; the storm that clashed above them in the clouds reflected the storm they were currently weathering on the ground. _

"_No!" Hermione yelled. "I can't leave you! Ron will be ok, he's only been knocked unconscious…" _

"_I demand you to leave, Hermione!" Harry roared. "You cannot be here!" _

"_Yes, silly girl," Voldemort's cold voice snarled. "Take your stupid friend and go! The fight is between me, and this boy…" _

_Hermione ignored both of them, and continued to limp toward Harry._

"_Fine, have it your way. Crucio!" Voldemort yelled, his wand pointed at Harry. Harry screamed; he was too weak, unable to fight off the curse. _

"_Stop it!" Hermione screamed. "Just stop it! Expelliarmus!" Hermione yelled, pointing her wand at Voldemort. _

_Voldemort's wand flew out of his hand, and he looked up at her in surprise. "The foolish mudblood has spunk." _

_Taking advantage of Voldemort's momentary incapacity, Hermione lunged at Harry, and helped him up. Upon seeing Voldemort's wand back in his hand, Hermione placed herself before Harry in a protective stance. _

_The rain splattered on her face, wiping away the blood, evidence of a past duel with Bellatrix Lestrange. She stood there, in front of him, protecting him. He was soo weak…too weak…he tried to push her away, but she refused. "No," he said, "I won't let you do this." _

_But she wasn't as badly hurt as he was, and for the life of him he couldn't push her away. _

"_Stand aside, silly girl…" the cold, malicious voice said. "Although it would bring him great pain to see you die before him, you could prove to be…quite valuable in the future, after I win this war…" he said this last part with what one would call a licentious grin. _

"_I won't let you do this," Harry whispered in her ear. _

_Ignoring Harry, Hermione addressed Voldemort. "I don't care what you say! Take me, please! Not Harry! Please, take me…kill me instead…" _

"_Please, you know this has nothing to do with you," Harry pleaded. "I won't let you do this; you'll die for nothing," and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed her away. _

"_Finally," the cold voice said, and cast his spell…_

Hermione stopped, unable to continue because her sobs had become uncontrollable. Parvati herself, the licensed therapist in the room, had already gone through a whole pack of Tempo tissues.

"Parvati…I can't anymore, I just can't!" Hermione managed to say between sobs. "I see it all the time, day in, and day out. I see it while I'm awake! I dream it while I'm asleep! I can't sleep! Every night I wake up _screaming_, and Harry rushes to my side to comfort me. I can't even let him sleep anymore, and I know this is taking its toll on him. Sometimes, I see him passed out at work…please, what can I do?"

Parvati wiped her eyes with tissue, and nodded. In an effort to compose herself, she got up, walked behind her desk, and sat down. However, you could see that she wasn't too steady on her feet.

In an instant, Parvati seemed to lose whatever empathy she had with her patient, and put on that cool, aloof, therapist look. "Hermione, in your dreams, do you ever get past that last point?" she asked.

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. "Past what point?"

"Well," Parvati began, picking up her notepad and pen. "When you related the story to me, you ended it where Harry pushes you away, and is about to get hit by You-Know-Who's spell."

Hermione nodded, but then slowly began to shake her head. "No, I don't."

"Hmmm," Parvati rejoined, as she, like the clichéd therapist, scribbled into her notes.

"Everyday I sit around and wonder whether the threat of Voldemort is truly gone." Hermione said, her eyes going large and glassy. "I wonder whether Harry is really truly free of this burden. Sometimes, I wish that I could just sit with Harry in front of me all the time, so that I could be sure that he isn't in some mortal danger. It doesn't help that Harry has chosen the line of work that he has, and although I don't necessarily work in the same department as he does, I followed him into it in order to…watch over him."

Parvati nodded, while still scribbling some notes on her paper.

"I never go out in the rain; never. When it rains, I ask Harry to stay with me. I'm sure that this must irritate the hell out of him, but he never complains…"

"Well, it seems like you have him quite covered," Parvati said, not unkindly.

Hermione looked up, obviously confused.

"Well, you live with Harry, in order to protect him. You work with Harry, also in order to protect him. You keep him with you when it rains, because it reminds you of the rain during The Last Battle…"

"Yes, I know," Hermione interrupted.

"Tell me, Hermione, do you sleep with him?"

At that question Hermione jumped out of her chair as if it had electrocuted her. "WHAT? Sleep with him? Are you mad? No, I don't sleep with him, Harry is only my friend, we've never, I mean, we haven't…"

"Very well," Parvati said, scribbling some more notes. "Perhaps its about high time you did."

"WHAT?" Hermione exclaimed again. "Why, of all the insane things I've heard in my life…"

"Oh Hermione, don't get your feathers ruffled," Parvati said, trying to keep a stern demeanor. "Nobody is telling you to have _sex_ with Harry. I just simply suggested that perhaps you two should sleep together."

Hermione nodded, though she had a confused expression on her face.

"It makes perfect sense, Hermione. You see, you seem to be quite ok when Harry is around. You aren't plagued with these…dreams or visions when you're with him, are you?"

Hermione shook her head. No, when Harry was around, she was indeed quite all right.

"So, if you want to get a decent night's sleep, I highly recommend that you try sleeping with Harry in the same room, perhaps even sleeping in the same bed, side by side. Maybe then you'd get this feeling that you're doing everything in your power to protect him, your dreams would stop."

Hermione's eyes widened, sudden understanding dawning.

"I'm not recommending this as a permanent thing," Parvati said, with an air that said that although she wasn't medically recommending it as permanent, in her opinion it _should_ be permanent. "I think that in the time being, you'd both benefit from getting a good's nights sleep. In the interim, you should keep coming back to me, so that we can perhaps _really_ get this psychosis fixed."

Hermione nodded, a sudden dread of going home and _actually suggesting_ this experiment to Harry - or worse - _Ron_, overpowering her.

"Here," Parvati said, handing her a sheet of paper. "This is a prescription signed by me, for the setup, you know, in case someone in your house needs proof." She gave Hermione a knowing look, and Hermione took the paper.

Later that day, Hermione decided to cook a nice dinner to keep her mind off her visions, and the impending doom that lay before her, when she had to tell Harry, and Ron, about Parvati's "prescription."

She made a Cajun Gumbo, a recipe she received off her aunt Mary who married andAmerican journalist, and currently resides in Louisiana.

When the boys got home, they downed it hungrily, but Hermione barely touched it. As Hermione served them each a second helping, she decided to break the news.

"So, I went to see a therapist today," Hermione said, dreading what she had to say next.

"Thas gooood," Ron said, his mouth full of food. "Wha 'appened?"

"She told me that I should sleep with Harry."

At this, Ron spit out his food and looked at Hermione as if she had just sprouted seven heads.

Harry jumped out of his seat. "WHAT?"

"Harry, Ron…wait, calm down! She didn't mean it like that." She forced Harry to sit back down, and began pacing around the table.

"She meant that I should sleep with Harry, you know, _sleep_ sleep," she babbled, "because apparently I don't get these insane visions and dreams when he's around, so if either of us wants to get a good night's sleep, we should sleep together."

Harry ran his hands through his hair; Ron sniggered. "Sleep is what you'd be getting, eh?"

Both Harry and Hermione glared at him. "Ron, how dare you…" Hermione began, but was quickly cut off by Harry.

"Its ok Hermione , I'll - _ahem_- sleep with you."

There was a long moment of silence in which the three of them looked at each other. Ron looked like he wanted to attack someone with his silverware; Harry was trying really hard not to look at Ron's silverware, and Hermione was silently thinking of spells to heal wounds _caused_ by silverware.

At last, this tense moment was ended when Crookshanks jumped into Harry's lap and began rubbing his head against Harry's abdomen. Hermione smiled, and called him over to her. "That's his way of thanking you," Hermione told Harry, as she rubbed Crookshanks' belly. "He seems quite pleased I'll actually sleep tonight."

Ron snickered. Hermione ignored it, and Harry followed suit, deciding that ignoring was indeed the best policy.

"Who was the therapist you went to, anyways?" Ron asked, a look of resignation on his face.

"Parvati Patil," Hermione said amicably.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Figures."


	3. Misdirection

"So…ahem…where do you wanna do this, exactly?" Harry asked, as he stood in Hermione's doorway watching her look for pajamas. Harry asked this question with an air of an innocent, country priest initiating a liaison with an equally pure vestal virgin.

Hermione rummaged through her drawers, pretending to look for a pair of suitable pajamas. How exactly where they going to do this? Would they sleep in her room?

Hermione stopped, and looked around her room. It was big, _too_ _big_, with large windows, and a great big four-poster bed. The fireplace stood right across, and there was a large sitting area off to the side. Beyond that was the bathroom, which was roughly the size of her parent's living room.

There were still boxes full of stuff strewn about everywhere; the place looked a right mess! Even though she knew Harry's room would be no better, Hermione decided she wanted to go upstairs instead.

"I think we should sleep in your room," Hermione said assuredly. "I can start there, a place I know where you feel safe, and where I can save you if need be, and then perhaps I can graduate to sleeping downstairs."

Harry nodded; the plan sounded good.

"Of course, you'd probably have to sleep down here a few nights too, before I can get used to leaving you alone." Hermione blushed as she said this.

"Hermione, it's quite all right…I understand."

There was an awkward silence lifted only when Harry cleared his throat and told Hermione he was going upstairs to get ready for bed.

"I'll be up in a minute," Hermione assured, and nearly collapsed on the floor as soon as Harry left.

Goodness! Why did this have to be happening? The whole thing felt so…_strange_. But why should it feel strange? Harry was her best friend, sleeping with him, as in _sleep_ sleeping, should be no big deal. Perhaps Hermione was worried that she would be invading Harry's privacy?

But then Hermione began to wonder if the situation had been reversed; would she feel like Harry was invading her privacy?

Of course not! If it were Harry, Hermione would do whatever it took to make him better. And she was sure Harry felt the same way.

As Hermione made her way upstairs to Harry's room, Hermione reflected on how chivalrous Harry was being about the whole ordeal. He never whined; he never complained that she was hampering his lifestyle with her twisted little phobia. He was being simply divine.

"First door on the left…" Hermione whispered to herself when she reached his room. Harry opted for Sirius' former room, as the master bedroom had yet to be unlocked.

Sirius' old room, a study, a random bathroom, and the master bedroom were the only rooms on the third floor, aside from a small closet-like room that had a staircase leading up to the attic.

Hermione knocked on the door ever so quietly. Harry seemed to have been waiting on the other side for her to enter, for the door opened swiftly after the second knock.

"What took you so long? My bed feels so cold and lonely without you----" Harry trailed off with a cheeky grin, which earned him a well-deserved smack from Hermione.

"Sod it, why don't you? If Ron passes by and hears this talk, he'd think we were…really…you know?" Hermione emphasized her point by making a funny gesture.

"Yeah…yeah. Right," Harry said with a grin.

Hermione smiled. What she thought would have been an awkward encounter was turning out to run quite smoothly. One look at the bed, however, and all humorous thoughts left her.

From the look on Harry's face, the same could be said about him.

"So err…do you wanna sleep on the left, or the right?" Harry asked distractedly, looking everywhere else in the room but at her.

Hermione took a second to answer. Harry's room was bigger than hers and quite neat actually, which sort of irked Hermione since hers was in such a mess. She bit back her ire and attributed this to the fact that Harry didn't have as many possessions as she did.

His bed stood in the center of the room, against the wall on her left, with two oak tables on either side. A large, floor to ceiling window stood directly across his bed, and the sitting room area, with the fireplace, was right next to it, and then came his bathroom, which was perhaps twice the size of Hermione's.

Hermione debated her sleeping position. If she slept on the right side, then she could protect Harry from any threat that might just spring on him if this threat happened to use the door. However, if said threat instead decided to use the window, Hermione's best bet was to sleep on the left.

In the end, she decided to sleep on the right. The very idea that a threat would crash through the window was quite ludicrous; Grimmauld Place was unplottable.

"I'll take right…" Hermione said.

Harry nodded, a most curious expression on his face. She had indeed taken a long time to decide, not that he was complaining; he loved sleeping on the left side of the bed.

Without much ado, Harry skipped off to his side of the bed and lay down. Hermione, however, remained standing. After a few moments spent with Harry tossing and turning in bed while Hermione stood watch over him like a Hungarian Horntail stands watch over its egg, Harry suddenly sat up.

"Hermione, do you think I'm smelly?"

Whatever trance Hermione was under seemed to break at this silly question. "What?" she asked confused.

"I said, Do. You. Think. I'm. Smelly." Harry tried really hard to hide his grin.

"Of course not! You do have a certain scent to you, but it is a generally pleasant one…"

Harry grinned. "So why on earth are you still standing? Get into bed and _sleep,_ Hermione. _Sleep_. Please _sleep_. I won't be able to sleep, unless I know you're sleeping. If I had wanted armed guards to be standing over me as I slept, I would have asked Moody long ago…"

Reluctantly, Hermione lay down, positioning herself as far away from Harry as possible. She knew this was completely childish, but something about the whole situation felt…_funny_.

Harry either didn't find the situation odd at all, or was simply too tired to dwell on it.

"Goodnight Hermione," Harry said, twisting around trying to find a comfortable position.

"Goodnight Harry."

Hermione extinguished the lights, and with that, she fell asleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke up to find her feet snuggled between Harry's using them as warmers, and Harry's arm stretched out across her belly.

She felt simply _marvelous_.

Not only had she had the first perfect night's sleep in the past two months, but her feet were actually warm. What a delightful change!

Even though she knew both she and Harry had work, she was loathe to get up, and her desire to wake up Harry was even less. He looked so peaceful, snoring away like a cat with a cold…

Abruptly, the snoring stopped and Harry opened an eye. "Are you staring at me while I sleep?" he asked.

Hermione smiled, "Why? Are you worried I might fall in love with the angelic way you look while you slumber?"

Harry grinned sleepily. "Nope. I just can't sleep when people stare at me, not that I'm accustomed to such a thing. Unless you count Hedwig, or that one time Crookshanks snuck up here and stared at me for an hour, before he took mercy on me and licked me awake before I was late to work…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just as well, since we have to be at work in half an hour."

Harry grumbled and hid himself under the blankets.

"Up, Potter," Hermione commanded, enjoying the chance to boss him around. She heard something like a whiny "No!" from beneath the sheets, but simply ignored it.

"Harry Potter, if you don't get up this instant, I promise you I will conjure up a bucket of cold water…"

And with that, Harry leapt out of bed and ran straight to the bathroom. Hermione sighed in satisfaction. It was indeed a very good thing she had slept with Harry and had not let her silliness get the best of her. Honestly.

That same morning at breakfast, Ron observed Harry and Hermione from behind his newspaper.

"Judging from the wonderful expressions on your faces this morning, I take it the night went well." Ron said this with his face stuck behind the paper, so one couldn't really judge whether he really meant this in a friendship-y sort of way, or whether he was just trying to subtly express his particular dislike for the current situation with another fabulous double entendre.

Hermione beamed. "Indeed, the night was simply…_satisfying_."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron snapped the paper shut; he had bloodshot eyes, complete with bags.

"Satisfying?" Ron asked, clearly trying to restrain himself.

Hermione laughed. "Honestly Ron! If you're going to be making snide remarks every morning, I might as well have fun with them."

Ron blushed red with anger, and for an insane moment Harry was reminded of his Uncle Vernon.

"Honestly! If you…"

"Oh shove it Ron!" Hermione snapped. "This has nothing to do with what you're thinking! The only thing happening here is that I have this peculiar need to protect Harry -a fairly natural trauma to everything that we've been through I daresay- and that my licensed therapist has deemed it proper that sleeping with Harry in order to make sure of his security is a bloody good way in taking a step towards a full cure!"

By this point, Hermione was yelling and looking so angry Harry was afraid she'd throw her coffee all over Ron.

"We aren't upstairs going at it like rabbits, Ron! He is trying to be a helpful, supportive friend! Even if we were going at it, it wouldn't be any of your business! What happened between you and I happened ages ago, and it did not end on my account! But I'm over it! I suggest you get over it too!"

With a final angry glance at Ron, Hermione apparated out of there. Harry and Ron just sat there in stunned silence.

"Well…hmm…I'd better be off to work then," Harry said, trying to pretend like nothing happened.

"Yes…of course." Ron nodded. But before Harry left, Ron stopped him. "Harry…"

Harry looked down at Ron, who was still sitting at the table. "I'm sorry Harry, you know, for…"

Harry shook his head. "It isn't me you should be apologizing too."

With a sympathetic, pointed glance at Ron, Harry apparated out.

"Grr I could just kill him!" Hermione yelled as she stumbled into Parvati's office, completely interrupting Parvati's lunch break.

"Hermione, hun, you really need to start making appointments before you burst in like this…" Parvati said, closing the lid of her Chinese take out.

"I'm really sorry," Hermione blushed. "It's just that, Ron has gone and…"

"I see," Parvati said, conjuring up a quill and notepad. "I expected this would happen."

"He has no right!" Hermione yelled. "No right whatsoever! Why is it that every time I even look at a member of the opposite sex, he goes into some sort of ranting lunacy! It is enough to make me want to use an Unforgivable Curse on him…"

And with that pronouncement Hermione sobered up immediately. _Never_ again did she _ever_ want to see _anyone_ go under an Unforgivable Curse, let alone cast one on another person or creature herself.

"I see that you've managed to sleep well," Parvati said, trying to dispel the gloom that seemed to suddenly descend on her patient.

"What? Oh yes…" Hermione said, her expression looking far off and forlorn. Suddenly, as if being snapped into place by some invisible puppeteer, Hermione came back to the present. "How can you tell, you know, that I've slept well?"

"Well, it is obvious," Parvati said, continuing a steady stream of scribbling. "You don't have bags under your eyes, and your energy is up a hundred times over yesterday. You seem to have regained that firecracker spirit, although it seems you're spending too much of it being angry at Ron."

Hermione tried hard not to gag, knowing full well that this behavior was reminiscent of her sixteen-year-old self. "I can't help it, Parvati. It's just that I get so upset! Why does he continue to do this, after everything…"

Parvati began to squirm in her seat, becoming a bit more uncomfortable after every word Hermione muttered. "Listen, Hermione," she began. "You sort of burst in here without an appointment, and I sort of have a client that that needs to be seen shortly. Do you think you could make an appointment and come see me another day?"

"Of course Parvati," Hermione said as she hastily got up. "Thank you for listening though, you've been wonderful."

"No problem Hermione," Parvati said. "Take care."

"Goodbye!" Hermione exclaimed before apparating away.

When she left, Parvati sunk down heavily onto her brown leather chair; she had to floo Ron.

As if on cue, Ron's head appeared in Parvati's fireplace.

"Has she gone to see you already?" Ron asked sternly.

"She just left."

Ron sighed. "Parvati, be careful…"

"I know!" she yelled, eyes flashing. "Don't make me feel like this is all my fault, you…"

"Yes, I know," Ron said sadly. "It's just that, she'd never forgive me. I mean, she has, but to bring this all up again, especially right now with her situation…she's so delicate, and…"

"I know," Parvati said, some of the old anger washing away. "I'm her therapist Ron, I'll make her better."

"I trust you," Ron said, those certain feelings coming over him as he watched her sit there, looking nervous, yet determined.

"Ron," Parvati began, looking at him coldly through her big black eyes. "Don't floo here again. She might be here, and then figure it out, and the small progress we've made will have been for nothing…"

"Ok," Ron said, and disappeared.

A long while afterwards, Parvati just sat there, staring at the empty spot where Ron's head had stood. At last she sighed, and opened up her Chinese take-out.


	4. 101 Ways to Encourage Sleeplessness

Hermione sat in Harry's bed, curled up with her knees against her chest, trying really hard not to hyperventilate.

He was late. It was almost midnight, and he was late. He hadn't owled her, as he usually did when he knew he would be late, and because of this she was now sitting there listening to Brian Setzer's version of "Hollywood Nocturne," thinking up really creative circumstances where Harry might find himself in mortal peril.

Hermione decided that with an imagination like hers, perhaps she should really look into a career in writing.

Of course, her career as an Auror was indeed fulfilling. She was the master in her department, having had experience in strategizing and analyzing intelligence in the past. She had tried a hand at working as a field Auror, which she was also amazing at, at least when she was alone. She found that when having to work in a group with Harry, she couldn't really keep her mind on task, seeing as she spent the entire time hovering over Harry making sure he didn't get killed.

Naturally, everyone started getting irritated after a while, Harry included, so she found it the best course of action to change departments. The Ministry was delighted; thanks to her in depth investigation skills, the Aurors had been able to capture two of the most notorious Death Eaters: Crabbe and Goyle.

In an effort to keep Harrygeddon, apocalyptic-style thoughts out of her head, she decided to muse on the strangeness of the relationship between her and Ron.

As expected, Hermione and Ron had indeed dated. Their relationship lasted about four months, (and there was actually a running pool on how long it would last) and took place during their sixth year at Hogwarts, around the same time Harry and Parvati had discovered their blossoming feelings towards each other.

But as is the case with most sixteen year olds in "serious" relationships, the subject of sex came up. With Harry and Parvati the whole thing was quite easy, they were both mere puppets of their hormones, and gave in to them as most young people do. But in the case of Ron and Hermione, it was different.

If it had been left up to Ron, their relationship would have also taken the drastic, physical turn Harry and Parvati's relationship had taken. But unfortunately for Ron, it was most definitely not left up to him…

It was clear from a start that Hermione wore the pants in _that_ relationship.

Because of this, poor Ron never got any, at least from Hermione. Until one fine day he did indeed get propositioned from a girl, and being the hormonal, inconsiderate, selfish git he was, he took advantage of it. Why the hell not? He was in his right as a male to get some! Even Harry, who by this time had already ended his relationship with Parvati, had gotten laid. Why shouldn't he?

Of course Ron never really thought of this as cheating on his leading lady; he never had any intention of telling her at all and figured that these little clandestine meetings would come to an end once Hermione had come to her senses and decided that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

But Ron forgot one simple fact, one that should never be overlooked: Hermione isn't stupid!

She saw the signs, almost at once, and confronted Ron about it. Of course, he denied the whole thing, which only infuriated Hermione even more.

And so Hermione, being the smart, young, vibrant thing she was, dumped Ron and fell straight into the arms of one Zacharias Smith.

Over the past two years, Hermione has gotten many a question regarding the torrid love affair she and Zach had going for each other, and even now she really can't explain how the whole thing came about, or even the purpose it served.

She vaguely remembered going out with him to piss Ron off, knowing full well that Ron thought the boy a git. The strategy of course worked, and she even went as far as jumping Zach's bones, in an even further effort to anger him.

Now this whole Zach diddy lasted for about three months, which made her sixth year at Hogwarts a most eventful year. All of this happened alongside uncovering a plot that when successful would make Voldemort immortal. Wonder how many other kids could deal with all that?

Seeing this sordid history of Gryffindor love lives, it was no wonder Ron and Hermione still had that quasi-anal passive-aggressive thing: it was merely a device that Ron used to mask his regret at screwing Hermione over, and that Hermione used to mask the anger that she still had deep within her.

The fact that Hermione had chosen this predicament to keep from dark Harry thoughts stemmed from the dinner Ron had decided to cook. She supposed Ron had made spaghetti and meatballs as a typical I-shall-not-apologize-using-words-because-I'm-male type thing, in an effort to make up for this morning's row.

The spaghetti was more or less good, as was the company. Hermione found the way Ron kept opening and closing his mouth between bites, straining with himself to apologize, highly amusing.

Of course he didn't, and at the end of it all he rather sulkily stomped up to his room.

It was in the middle of this reverie that Harry suddenly apparated right next to her.

"Hi," he said, smiling at her toothily.

"Hi…omg, what happened?" Hermione asked, jumping up in alarm.

Indeed, Harry looked as if he had just escaped some trying situation within an inch of his life, which was most likely true. He had a big burn mark on his left cheek, and parts of his cloak were singed off…not to mention the highly disheveled state of his hair, which in retrospect wasn't that big a deal since it was always highly disheveled.

Harry let himself fall back onto his bed. "We got Avery," he said.

Hermione sighed, and sat back down next to him. They sat there in silence, until Hermione stretched over him and inspected his burn mark.

"Why on earth did you not get this fixed?" she asked him.

Harry, who had previously had his eyes closed, opened them wide and sat up. "I knew I had to come home to you."

Hermione's eyes went wide, and Harry rushed to explain himself. "Well, you know, you always have kittens when I'm not with you, so I figured…I had to be home as fast I could before you went off and did something stupid…"

Hermione smiled, completely amused by the sudden role-reversal. Wasn't she the one that usually worried about Harry doing something stupid?

"Hungry?" she asked him.

In response, Harry's stomach made some weird resentful growling noise thing at being ignored for so long. Hermione chuckled and went downstairs to grab Harry a plate of leftover spaghetti. On her way back up, she stopped off her study to retrieve some pomade she had handy for Harry's burn mark.

"Food!" Harry exclaimed happily when Hermione appeared with the spaghetti.

"Beware, Ron made it." Hermione said.

But Harry didn't seem to care, for he greedily began slurping the spaghetti away, while Hermione went off in search of Harry's pajamas.

"Harry, where is the other half of your Pajama bottoms?" Hemione asked, as she picked up the bottoms off the floor in front of the fireplace.

"No…idea," Harry managed to say between bites.

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw Harry's bottoms at her. "Get ready for bed," she commanded.

Harry hastily finished his spaghetti, grabbed his pants, and ran into the bathroom.

Hermione entertained herself by turning off the music, banishing the empty spaghetti bowl, conjuring a fire in the fireplace, and sitting down to try and unscrew the seemingly unscrewable lid off the pomade jar.

In the middle of her struggle, Harry emerged from the bathroom with clean teeth, a freshly scrubbed face, (at least, around that burn…) and shirtless.

"Need some help with that?" he asked, obviously amused at all the effort Hermione was putting into opening the little jar.

When she looked up, Hermione found herself unable to utter a sound, and handed Harry the jar while trying really hard no to look up at him.

He was shirtless!

Harry, not being completely daft, noticed the way she kept her eyes away from his general direction.

"Hermione…you don't mind do you? I mean, I can go get some other shirt its really no big deal…"

"NO! I mean…no, its fine…really…" Hermione took the now open jar of pomade from Harry, and stood up.

"Sit," she squeaked out, suddenly regretting the fire in the fireplace. What on earth had possessed her to start a fire? It was already so god damn hot in the room!

These thoughts pervaded her mind as she dipped her hand into the jar, lathered some of the pomade over her hand, and every so gently caressed Harry's burn with the pomade…

Hermione found that her hand was shaking slightly, and noticed that Harry's breathing was shallow…then all of a sudden their knees touched, and Hermione jumped back as if it had shot her.

"Okay, so it should heal in about ten seconds," Hermione stammered, completely taken aback by everything that had just happened. What exactly had just happened?

"Right…" Harry said, a dazed look on his face. "Perhaps we should…go to bed?"

"WHAT?" Hermione asked, looking alarmed.

"Sleep Hermione. You know, what we did last night…"

"Right…right…" Hermione said, inching her way toward the other side of the bed…as far away from Harry as possible…

"Hmmm…do you, you know, are you sure about?" Harry asked, motioning toward his torso, looking again like a country priest…an attractive half naked country priest.

"It's…it's ok, like I said. I mean, it is sort of warm in here, don't you think…"

"Yes. Warm. Stifling…" Harry agreed, nodding along.

"Right. Right…so, umm…Sleep."

"Yes! Sleep!" Harry said, happily jumping into bed and disappearing under the covers.

Hermione hesitated, an expression on her face reminiscent of Psyche, although one couldn't be sure whether it was Psyche's expression at Delphi, where she learned that for the rest of her life she would sleep with a monster, or when she realized the monster was in fact Eros…

After a moment, Hermione realized how ridiculous she was being, and delicately climbed into bed. She needed sleep.

Although she knew that tonight, even though she'd be safe from dreams of Voldemort, no sleep would come her way…


End file.
